


They Don't Teach Dancing in the Circle

by ArcherAnders



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Handers Reverse Big Bang 2018, Kissing, M/M, Purple Hawke, Semi-Public Sex, embarrassed blond mages, gay as heck, implied at least - Freeform, poor dancing skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcherAnders/pseuds/ArcherAnders
Summary: The second to last place Anders thought he'd ever be was at a ball inside the Winter Palace. The last place he thought he'd ever be was pushed up against a wall being ravished by Hawke in the Palace's busy corridors, just outside of the gaze of Orlesian nobles.Written for the Handers Reverse Big Bang 2018





	They Don't Teach Dancing in the Circle

“Garrett, you cannot be serious!”

But Anders sees that smirk he loves and the upturned creases in the corners of those hazel eyes and knows that he is absolutely, ridiculously serious.

It was about a month ago when the letter showed up. Hawke and Anders hadn’t had a home – not a proper one, at least – since Kirkwall. But Anders was continually surprised by how regularly their contacts managed to get mail to the two of them. Typically it was Bethany or Varric who wrote to them, but this letter seemed far more formal than the usual tattered parchment that made its way to them. The envelope was crisp and cared for in transit, but the symbol in the sealing wax was one neither of them recognized.

Surprisingly, it was actually from Varric. He was working with a group known as the Inquisition. The message inside was urgent, asking for Hawke’s help destroying Corypheus, an ancient Tevinter magister they’d _apparently_ failed to kill.

The letter didn’t mention Anders, but they both knew he would hardly be welcome. Much of the work he and Hawke had done up to this point had forced him to stay in the shadows for his own safety, and there was significant additional risk considering how he had reacted to Corypheus the last time.

But Hawke had other ideas, and he knew he needed to keep Anders close when dealing with a threat this huge. So the two of them travelled to Skyhold and made plans with the Inquisition and Wardens to take Corypheus down.

Their plans were put on hold when the Inquisition was forced to attend a series of peace talks at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. Because the entirety of the main organization was travelling to Orlais, Anders suggested that he and Hawke stay behind and wait for their return before moving forward with the Wardens.

Once again, Hawke had other ideas. With a significant amount of flirting and smooth-talking, he managed to convince Lady Montilyet to allow them to attend the masquerade under the protection of the Inquisition.

Of all the hare-brained ideas Hawke has had in the past, Anders thought this was the worst – until the following conversation:

“Anders, please,” Hawke begs. “We’ve come all this way. Why not just enjoy it?”

“I’m not going to dance with you, love.” Anders crosses his arms. “You know that the Inquisition doesn’t really want us here in the first place. I don’t think we need to flaunt it by stepping onto the ballroom floor. Besides, you know I don’t dance.”

Hawke rolls his eyes at him. “I could care less if they want us here. We’re always working to help mages. We’re always running off to the next place once we’ve done what we can. Why not have a single night to relax and enjoy ourselves?

“But maybe you’re right,” he continues. “I’ve heard enough about your old spicy shimmy to think that maybe you don’t dance anymore because you were just so bad at it.”

“How dare you!“ Anders frowns. “I’ll have you know that my spicy shimmy was well loved in Vigil’s Keep!”

“Perhaps as a joke-“

“Alright!” Anders pushes Hawke’s shoulder lightly and smiles at him. “We’ll dance, but you lead.”

In that moment, Anders can see that Hawke is absolutely beaming.

Through the course of their entire relationship, Anders has never really felt like he deserved Hawke or his love. He tried to hide his feelings for years, but when they became closer he knew he had to warn Hawke that his cause would always come first. Despite that, Hawke’s love for him had never faltered. He never cared that Anders’ work took up so much of his time. He never even chided him after the Chantry. He followed when he needed to and led otherwise, always willing to do whatever Anders required to help further his cause.

Anders knows that whatever love and time he has been able to give Hawke has somehow been enough for him. But this simple gesture – being able to give him just one dance – seems to mean the world to him.

Once the orchestra starts to play a new piece, Hawke extends his hand out to Anders.

Anders looks down at it and then back up to meet his lover’s gaze, blindly accepting the offer.

He’s led out onto the ballroom floor. Hawke’s left hand firmly holds Anders’ right, and Hawke gently guides Anders’ other hand up to his shoulder. With Hawke’s remaining hand on his waist, he feels Hawke push towards him, silently asking his body to move.

But instead, Anders stands still and is stepped on. He looks down at his feet and sees them clad in foreign shoes that are far too nice to be worn by him. The pattern in the stone floor below is so perfect and intricate and the entire room so grand. There are so few places Anders has ever felt he belonged, and this is so far from comfort that he feels utterly paralyzed.

“Just move with me,” Hawke says softly.

It snaps Anders out of his thoughts, and he meets his eyes once again. He feels Hawke step forward, pushing once more, and he manages to, clumsily, move his feet.

“You’re doing fine.” Hawke’s smile is warm and kind and it nearly makes Anders believe that lie. “I didn’t know they taught you ballroom dancing in the Circle.”

Anders can’t help but let out a laugh. “Of course, love. That class was between ‘How to Remain a Mindless Husk 101’ and ‘Intermediate Feeling Shameful About the Way You Were Born’.”

“You must have failed both courses.”

“That I did.” Anders feels lighter now, and he’s moving with more ease. “And what about you? How did a nomadic Fereldan learn to dance so well?”

Hawke continues their dance, playfully dipping Anders back just slightly. “Mother taught me when I hit my teenage years. She said if I was ever to settle with a nice woman, I’d need to know how to woo her.”

“Looks like that worked out for you,” Anders says, laughing again.

“I did attend a few formal events in Hightown, per her request, but that was back before I managed to woo you.”

“Oh, really?” Anders asks. “See, here I was thinking I was the one who managed to make you fall for me.”

“You did,” Hawke admits.

As the song comes to a close, he lets go of Anders, steps back, and bows.

Unsure of what to do, Anders manages a delayed bow in return. As he straightens up, he sees that many eyes are facing them, and the room is filled with murmurs before the orchestra starts up again.

Though he can’t hear everyone well, he starts to worry. Their invitation to join the Inquisition at this event was stipulated by the fact that they weren’t to announce who they really were. The Champion of Kirkwall may have been welcomed here, but his renegade apostate lover would not.

“We need to go,” Anders insists quietly, tugging at Hawke’s hand like a stern mother leading her dawdling child.

“Anders, what’s the matter with you?” Hawke whispers sharply.

Anders ignores him and continues to pull on Hawke’s hand as he leads him through the Hall of Heroes, turns left down the crowded Guest Wing hall, and heads straight into a room devoid of guests.

"They didn't actually teach us how to dance in the Circle."

Hawke glowers at him. 

“They were talking about us,” Anders finally admits. He frowns as he leans back against a stone wall, and then he pushes a few loose strands of blonde hair behind his right ear.

Hawke furrows his brow. “Who the Orlesians? So what if they were talking about us? They were probably just remarking on what a lovely couple we make.”

“I just-“ Anders sighs. “I just don’t want to cause any trouble for you or the Inquisition while we’re here. They’ve got enough on their plates for tonight, and we need to ensure that we’re able to move on with our plans concerning your Warden friend.”

“No one knows who we are,” Hawke reassures him. “And even if they did, I wouldn’t care.”

“You’ve been far too selfless when it comes to me,” Anders says. “I’ve dragged you into-“

“You haven’t dragged me into anything,” Hawke cuts him off. “Anders, I chose this life. I chose you. If I wanted it easy, I would have settled down with some girl I met after I wooed her with my dance skills and wit and my amazing good looks-“

Anders stops him with a frown.

Hawke takes Anders’ hands into his. “What I mean is that I’ve supported every action you’ve taken, and I will continue to do so until the day we die. I am proud of you. I am in awe of you. And if anyone so much as insinuates that your presence here is anything but welcome, I will make them eat their stupid masks.”

“Those masks really are ridiculous, aren’t they?” Anders smiles at him weakly. “I love you, Garrett. I don’t deserve you.”

“Enough of that. If anything, you deserve more,” Hawke says, walking towards him. He gently places a palm against his cheek, and Anders leans into it.

“Alright,” Anders says, his loving smile morphing into a sly one. “Go ahead and give me more then.”

There’s not a moment of hesitation as Hawke is instantly right up against him. Their lips connect and tongues collide as Anders blindly wraps his arms around the man he loves. He feels himself being hoisted up, back sliding against the wall.

“Gare, I didn’t mean here,” Anders gasps as he pulls back for air.

But Hawke doesn’t acknowledge his concerns at all except for a quick tug at his lower lip. Anders unconsciously licks his bruised skin as he raises his legs to wrap them around Hawke, allowing the stronger man all the control he wants.

Though the music from the ballroom only faintly echoes throughout the halls, the murmuring of Orlesian nobles has not died down in the slightest from the time they entered the room. Anders can hear a pair of voices right outside the doorway.

“Someone could walk in on us,” Anders whispers.

“You’ll just have to be quiet then.” Hawke kisses him softly as he grinds his lower half up against that of his lover.

Anders swallows a moan. “Good thing I got a lot of practice being sneaky and quiet in the Circle.”

“Lucky me,” Hawke murmurs before nipping hard at the skin against Anders’ neck.

“Andraste’s tits!” Anders hisses. He grips tightly onto Hawke’s finery and bucks against him. “We’re going to get caught if you keep that up.”

“If anything, it’d just raise our dear Inquisitor’s court approval.” Hawke smirks at him. “Now show me what else they taught you in that Circle.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the lovely artwork that this piece was written to accompany. The artist is the talented [storybookhawke](https://storybookhawke.tumblr.com) on tumblr and [ghostgarrison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison) here on AO3.
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> You can find me at [archer-and-anders](https://archer-and-anders.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


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